‘A triumph, in fact,’ said Humphrey.
‘Like what?’ I asked.
‘I mean,’ said Humphrey, ‘some great personal publicity for a great personal and political achievement.’
I was getting rather excited. I waited expectantly. But suddenly Humphrey fell silent.
‘Well . . .’ I repeated, ‘what have you in mind?’
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘I’m trying to think of something.’
That was a great help!
I asked what the purpose would be of this hypothetical triumph. He told me that Sir Arnold indicated that the PM would be unable to move me downwards if I had a triumph before the reshuffle.
That’s obvious. What’s even more worrying is the implication that there was no possibility of the PM moving me upwards.
I mentioned this. Humphrey replied that, alas! one must be a realist. I don’t think he realised just how insulting he was being.
I told Humphrey I’d take Brussels, and brought the meeting to a close. I decided I’d call Brussels tonight and accept the post, and thus avoid the humiliation of being demoted in the Cabinet by pre-empting the PM.
I told Humphrey he could go, and instructed Bernard to bring me details of the European Word Processing standardisation plans, to which I would now be fully committed.
Then Humphrey had an idea.
He stood up, excitedly.
‘Wait a minute,’ he said, ‘I have an idea. Supposing you were to ignore the EEC and publish your
He looked at me.
I tried to readjust my thoughts. Weren’t we back at square one? This is what I’d been about to do before we got the directive from Brussels a couple of weeks ago. And Humphrey had told me that we had to comply with a Brussels directive.
‘It’s not a directive,’ he now explained. ‘It hasn’t been ratified by the Conference. It’s a request.’
I wondered, aloud, if we could really stab our partners in the back, and spit in their faces.
Bernard intervened. ‘You can’t stab anyone in the back while you spit in their face.’ I suppose he was trying to be helpful.
The more I thought about it, the more I realised that Humphrey’s scheme had a touch of real genius about it. Defying Brussels would be very popular in the country. It would be a big story. And it would prove that I had elbows.
I told Humphrey that it was a good idea.
‘You’ll do it?’ he asked.
I didn’t want to be rushed. ‘Let me think about it,’ I said. ‘After all, it would mean giving up . . .’ I didn’t know how to put it.
‘The trough?’ he offered.
‘No, that’s
He knew it was anyway, because he said: ‘When it comes to it, Minister, one must put one’s country first.’
On the whole, I suppose I agree with that.
My repudiation of the EEC request had indeed proved to be a big story. A triumph, in fact. Especially as I accompanied it with a rather jingoistic anti-Brussels speech. The popular press loved it, but I’m afraid that I’ve irrevocably burned my boats – I don’t think I’ll be offered a Commissionership again in a hurry.
Let’s hope it does the trick.
The reshuffle was announced today. Fred was indeed kicked upstairs, Basil Corbett went to Employment, and I stayed where I am – at the DAA.
Humphrey popped in first thing, and told me how delighted he was that I was staying.
‘I know I probably shouldn’t say this, but I personally would have been deeply sorry to lose you.’ He told me that he meant it most sincerely.
‘Yes,’ I said benignly, ‘we’ve grown quite fond of each other really, haven’t we, like a terrorist and a hostage.’
He nodded.
‘Which of you is the terrorist?’ asked Bernard.
‘He is,’ Humphrey and I said in unison, each pointing at the other.
